


In Pieces

by HappyJuicyfruit



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Getting Together, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Loss of fingers, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mute Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Torture, Permanent Injury, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Worried Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyJuicyfruit/pseuds/HappyJuicyfruit
Summary: Jaskier.He had longer hair, shoulder length and matted. His cheeks were stubbled and tear stained. His clothes were ratty, worn, and not colorful at all. His hands bandaged. And his eyes… his eyes were nervous, and… hurt. Deeply hurt. But here his bard was, alive, petting Roach and staring at Geralt.Geralt moved forward and hugged the man to his chest without thought. He wasn’t expecting the flinch, nor for the bard to pull away, but Geralt let him go. He didn’t know what had come over him anyway.He was happy enough just to look at the man.“Where have you been?” He asked. “I’ve been searching for you, ever since…” he trailed off, expecting Jaskier to chime in, like he always did.Jaskier didn’t say anything.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 102
Kudos: 2067
Collections: Geralt is Sorry





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies, I am back with the angst! 
> 
> This one is mostly about injury recovery, read the warnings if injuries are hard for you! 
> 
> Warnings *which contain spoilers*: Geralt finds Jaskier being mistreated, living in a barn.   
> Jaskier has a scar across his throat, and he has lost his ability to speak.   
> Jaskier is nervous and scared for most of the chapter, and has a panic attack at one point.   
> You find out at the end of the chapter that Jaskier has also lost fingers on both of his hands.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I made a little title picture for this:) 
> 
> It’s my first attempt I hope you like it haha

As soon as Geralt caught his breath, he regretted it. As soon as he turned around to see the empty mountaintop behind him, he closed his eyes and cursed himself. He had never been good at this. Had never known how to let people in, or to… be friendly. And now he’d fucked up with the only two people who had ever really tried to just _be there_ for him. With him. 

Yennefer… was a lost cause. She’d left on her own volition, and Geralt knew that following after her would only make her snap back harder. 

But Jaskier? 

Jaskier, Geralt was fairly sure… if he was quick, if he found him soon enough… Jaskier would accept his apology. 

He just had to find him in time. 

\-- 

A problem arose as soon as Geralt set off to find the bard. 

He wasn’t on the mountain. 

He wasn’t at the camp they had stayed in, nor at the base where they’d left Roach. 

Jaskier wasn’t anywhere, and if Geralt wasn’t so pissed that he couldn’t find the damn man, he would have been impressed he had managed to get away so quickly. 

So Geralt does the only thing he can think of, and goes to the closest town. Where else would Jaskier go, but to a tavern where he could play? That’s what a bard did, after all. And Jaskier truly did prefer a real bed to sleeping outdoors. 

—

Jaskier wasn’t in the closest town. He wasn’t in the next one over either. 

\--

It took Geralt 4 months before he admitted he wasn’t going to find the man. Jaskier had left, because Geralt had told him to, and hadn’t left a trace behind to follow. 

That didn’t mean Geralt stopped looking for him.

\-- 

He lost a few months of searching to get the girl. 

She wasn’t someone he ever thought he would meet, let alone travel alone with, but even so… she was important. 

He couldn’t just leave her to be killed by Nilfgaard. 

With her at his side now, travel was slow. They had to keep out of sight, most of the time. Away from big towns. Away from anyone who may have heard of the golden haired girl, running from the soldiers. The girl who had a large reward on her head, in exchange for any information on her whereabouts, no matter how small. 

Yes, they are slow to travel. 

But small towns, villages, those folk didn’t pay them no mind. They didn’t listen to whispers of reward money, because they didn’t trust anyone traveling through that wasn’t of their own kind. They kept to themselves, and Geralt stayed out of their way. 

There was also the added benefit that Geralt was fairly sure that Jaskier must be in one of these off the path towns, because he hadn’t been in all of the cities Geralt had already searched. He was planning on passing through this way anyway. 

Not that Ciri needed to know that part. 

—

Ciri knew that Geralt was looking for something. She wasn’t sure who, or what, it was, but he was always… searching. His eyes would zoom in on any person who crossed their path on the road. He would search every room thoroughly, every time they stepped into a new tavern or inn. 

At first she thought perhaps it was just his way of keeping her safe. Geralt’s way of keeping an eye out for any and all trouble. 

But it wasn’t that, because his shoulders would slump in disappointment whenever the traveler came close enough on the path to see their face. And his mouth would tighten, after his look around the inn brought forward nothing but random townspeople. 

There was more to it, as well, when he thought she wasn’t listening. He would ask around, whenever he distracted Ciri with food or sleep. He would inquire about a bard, a bard who sang about Witcher’s and wolves. 

A bard who had apparently vanished off the face of the continent, if the confused looks and shaking of heads were anything to go by. Geralt never seemed to get the answer he was looking for, and Ciri always bit her tongue to keep herself from asking. 

If he wanted her to know, he would tell her. After all, it wasn’t like she didn’t have secrets of her own. 

She just hoped, whoever this bard was… he was nice, when Geralt finally found him. 

It would be awfully nice to have a friend with them on the road. 

Geralt wasn’t much of a talker, and they were always moving, always… hiding. Ciri just wanted someone to laugh with again. Someone to talk to. 

Perhaps this bard could be that someone for her. Geralt clearly cared for him, and that must mean enough for her to trust them too, surely. 

They just had to find him first. 

— 

It had been six months since she started traveling with Geralt, based on the season. It was hot now. Humid. The snow had long since melted, and the birds nests were full of recently hatched chicks. 

Ciri and Geralt often chose to walk beside Roach, now, instead of on top of the overheating horse. They lay in the woods, often without need of a fire, and Ciri dreamed of finding a lake. A river. 

Anything she could jump into, really. 

But alas, they did not come across any body of water, and instead entered a town. A town full of pig farmers, and stands selling chicken eggs. 

She was getting quite sick of towns full of pig farmers, and stands selling chicken eggs. 

Geralt thrust Roach’s reins into her hands, stomping off to enter the inn. Probably to search for the bard they have yet to find. Geralt was getting grumpier as the months passed, and no bard was found. 

Ciri was starting to wonder if perhaps the other man was dead… like how everyone from Cintra was dead now. 

She knew it hurt the most, not having a body to say goodbye to. 

So she let Geralt storm off to interrogate the innkeeper, and she led Roach towards the stables. They were small, probably only large enough for four horses, but it would do for the night. 

The stablehand was petting a lovely golden mare when they walked in, so Ciri stood and waited until he was done. 

Roach had other ideas though, and let out a loud whiny as soon as they entered. 

The poor man dropped his brush. 

“Roach!” Ciri chastised, giving the horse a hard look before turning to the stable hand. “Sorry, she just gets a bit fussy when she’s hot.” 

The man stared at them with large eyes. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t move either. 

Ciri didn’t think Roach’s whiny was loud enough to have this much of a startled reaction. 

“Are you quite alright?” 

The man’s eyes moved from the horse to her, then he blinked and nodded. He stepped forward, taking the reins from her in bandaged hands. Roach bumped her head against the man’s chest. He rubbed her neck, a small smile on his face. 

Ciri frowned in confusion. Roach only treated her and Geralt like that, and she certainly didn’t let anyone else pet her. 

But she didn’t want to ask who this man was, because there were tears in his eyes now, and he was slowly leading Roach away. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She asked instead, watching as he led Roach into a stall of her own, and started to clumsily undo her saddle. The man nodded again, not taking his eyes off Roach, and Ciri shrugged. 

She left him alone to tend to the horses. Perhaps he wasn’t used to the company of people, and her questions scared him. 

He seemed nice though. Gentle. 

He had kind eyes, at least, when he was looking at Roach. He was quiet, silent even, but Ciri decided she liked him anyway. 

—

By the time she entered the inn, Geralt was sitting on the other side of the room, sulking. 

No bard here, then, either. 

They ate dinner in silence, and went up to their room to sleep. Geralt didn’t mention his bard, and Ciri didn’t mention the stablehand. That’s what happened, when you didn’t talk. A lot of things went unmentioned. 

In the morning, Geralt sent her to collect Roach, saying he needed to ask around about something. 

Ciri almost rolled her eyes at the man. One of these days, they were going to have to talk about this bard. Or at least, talk about how it was useless trying to hide her from Geralt’s search for him. 

So Ciri went on her way to collect Roach. The stablehand was the same man as yesterday, and he nodded sadly when she asked for her horse to be readied to leave. 

She watched as he started to prepare with his clumsy bandaged hands, and she took pity on him. 

“Take your time,” she said, “we’re in no rush.” 

The man smiled at her, and again said nothing. But his movements weren’t as rushed, and his hands, when they touched Roach, were as gentle as yesterday. 

Satisfied, Ciri went to wait outside. The stablehand clearly needed a moment. 

— 

Geralt had thought… had hoped, Jaskier would be in one of these towns. One of these tiny, useless, villages, but no. Jaskier was nowhere to be found. And the farther off the well beaten path they went, the more and more people didn’t even know who the bard was. 

Geralt had thought ‘Toss a Coin’ had traveled across the entire continent. He had been wrong. 

His talk with the villagers that morning was just as successful as it had been last night. This particular village hadn’t seen any bard in a number of months, let alone a famous one. Not that they would know the difference. 

With an aggregated sigh, Geralt left the inn. The streets were mostly empty, with a town this small, and Geralt could easily see Ciri sitting outside of the stables. 

She barely looked his way when he walked up to her. 

“Is Roach ready?”

“Not yet,” she said easily, looking into the stable. 

“Why not?” It had been plenty of time.

Ciri shrugged, “the stablehand needed a moment with Roach.” 

Geralt frowned. That was ridiculous, no one needed a moment with Roach. Annoyed, Geralt strode into the barn, ignoring Ciri as she scrambled to her feet behind him. This was _his_ horse, damnit, she didn’t even _like_ other people- 

He froze at the sight in front of him. 

_Jaskier_. 

He had longer hair, shoulder length and matted. His cheeks were stubbled and tear stained. His clothes were ratty, worn, and not colorful at all. His hands bandaged. And his eyes… his eyes were nervous, and… _hurt_ . Deeply hurt. But here his bard was, _alive_ , petting Roach and staring at Geralt. 

Geralt moved forward and hugged the man to his chest without thought. He wasn’t expecting the flinch, nor for the bard to pull away, but Geralt let him go. He didn’t know what had come over him anyway. 

He was happy enough just to look at the man. 

“Where have you been?” He asked. “I’ve been searching for you, ever since…” he trailed off, expecting Jaskier to chime in, like he always did. 

Jaskier didn’t say anything. 

Geralt frowned and looked him over again, his skinny frame, his pale skin, his bandaged hands. 

Something was wrong. 

“What happened?” Geralt asked, stepping forward and stopping only because Jaskier took the same step back. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier looked away from Geralt then, down to his hands. He rang them together nervously, only a few fingers poking out of the edges of the bandage, and then eventually, brought them up to flutter around his throat. 

Geralt didn’t understand. 

“Jaskier-“ his voice cut out when the bard pulled down the scarf, an article of clothing Geralt had never seen the man wear before, to reveal a deep red scar, barely healed, that ran jagged across Jaskier’s throat. 

“You can’t speak.” Geralt realized. Jaskier nodded. “Fuck.” 

Someone had taken his _voice_. 

And injured his hands. 

Jaskier… Jaskier couldn’t be a bard like this. 

“Is this who you’ve been looking for?” Ciri called into the barn. Jaskier took several more steps away as she entered the room, and Geralt watched his retreat silently. 

“Yes.” He said simply. He hadn’t known Ciri knew, but it didn’t surprise him. She was a smart girl, and he hadn’t hidden it very well. 

Jaskier looked between the two of them in surprise. 

“The stablehand is a bard?” Ciri asked, stepping up beside him now. 

Jaskier was fluttering his hands around nervously again, but Geralt didn’t know what to do to put the man’s mind at ease. Jaskier had never been afraid of him before, let alone afraid of a child. 

“He used to be.” 

“And he… is working here now? As a stablehand?” Ciri asked. 

Geralt grunted. It did appear that way. Geralt looked away from Jaskier, taking in the stable for the first time. It was small, and there were only two horses in it, one of them being Roach. 

The other was a mare, whose stall Jaskier was slowly stepping into. A quick glance was enough for Geralt to see that this is where Jaskier had been sleeping, a bedroll and a small bag shoved inside was all the bar- the man had. Geralt saw no sign of a lute. 

“He's been living here.” Geralt said, turning back to Jaskier to see his reaction. Jaskier didn’t do anything but glance between Geralt and Ciri nervously. “But he’s coming with us now.” 

Jaskier opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gestured to the horse. 

Geralt shrugged, “we can take the horse with us.” 

Jaskier’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and Geralt nodded. “Get your things together.” 

Jaskier looked outside, towards the inn. Geralt grunted, “I’ll deal with it, I’m sure we have enough coin to pay for a horse.” 

Jaskier looked between Geralt and the inn nervously again, and Geralt wasn’t sure what the problem was. 

Then he realized… Roach had been in here all night. And Jaskier had clearly recognized her. Yet he hadn’t… 

Though, he supposed, with the last thing Geralt had said to him, perhaps Jaskier hadn’t wanted to seek Geralt out. Perhaps he… was wanting the simple life now, living in the stables and not anywhere near monsters. Geralt didn’t know what the other man had been through, after all, but it looked like hell. 

Maybe he didn’t want to deal with- 

“Oi!” Someone shouted, causing Jaskier to flinch violently into the mare. “What’s going on in here?” The woman who ran the inn strode into the stable, making her way towards Jaskier. “Is my worker bothering you two?” 

Geralt stepped in front of the angry woman before she could get any closer. “No, we’re just talking.” 

The woman snorted, “I haven’t heard a peep from him in the months he’s been here, so I highly doubt that.” 

Geralt narrowed his eyes, he did not like this woman. 

“Why are you talking to him?” 

Geralt grunted, “he’s an old friend, I’m offering him a chance to be travel companions once more.” 

The woman huffed, “he’s practically useless, I doubt he’ll be able to keep up while traveling.” 

“Jaskier,” he said, turning away from the woman to look at the bard- the man, who was fidgeting beside the mare. “Do you want to come with us?” 

A heart beat, two, then Jaskier nodded. Geralt felt his lips twitch in a smile. 

He turned back to the woman, “he’s coming with us.” 

“No,” the woman said, crossing her arms. 

“What?” 

“I said no, you can’t just take him. You’ll have to pay me if you want to take my best stablehand away.” 

“You just called him useless.” 

“Well he’s my only stablehand, isn’t he?”

“That’s preposterous!” Ciri said, “you can’t own a human being, he can choose to come with us if he wants to.” 

“No, he can’t,” the woman lifted her nose, “he owes me for room and board.” 

“Room and board?” Geralt asked, “he’s living with the horse.” 

“Yes, that’s the room, and I give him one meal a day.” The woman nodded. 

Ciri looked outraged, “do you even pay him?” 

The woman scoffed, “I pay him with room and board.” 

“And he’s been working for you for months,” Geralt shook his head, “he owes you nothing. And we’re taking the horse at half price in exchange.” 

“What- you - you can’t take my horse!” 

“And you can’t just not pay someone for months of labor!” Ciri said. 

The woman wasn’t listening anymore though, because she was trying to get around Geralt to grab at Jaskier. She didn’t make it very far before Geralt had her pinned to the rotting wooden wall. 

“Ciri, take Roach out of here,” Geralt said calmly. The girl did as she was told. “Jaskier,” he turned to the bard, to find him watching them with wide eyes. “Are you ready?” 

He jumped, and quickly moved to prepare the horse. It didn’t take him long, and soon the horse was saddled up with one saddle bag attached. Geralt nodded, and Jaskier took her outside. 

He turned to the woman, releasing her to pull out a bag of coin. Her eyes went from indignant to intrigued. They swiftly turned back again when he didn’t hand her the bag, and instead reached in to grab a few coins, and drop them in her outstretched hand. 

“That horse is worth far more than-“ 

“And how much have you made boarding horses with a free stablehand?” 

The woman opened her mouth, outraged, but Geralt was already turning away. He ignored her when she hit his back, mostly because he barely felt it. 

Ciri and Jaskier were already on the horses, ready to go, and Geralt swung up in front of the girl and squeezed his heels. 

They left the village, ignoring the screams of the woman behind them. 

—

Jaskier rode behind Geralt and Ciri, his hands nervous in the mare’s reigns. Whenever Geralt looked back at him, his eyes were skittering over the trees. Like he was expecting something to jump out of them at any moment. He flinched at any noise, and cowered when they passed another group of travelers on the path. 

This was not the bard that Geralt knew, but he was happy to have him back. 

They didn’t travel far, Geralt only put enough distance between them that he was sure the woman wouldn’t be able to follow. He doubted she would, but he didn’t want Jaskier to have anything to worry about… anything more, at least. 

When they set up camp for the night, Jaskier settled down at the edge of the clearing, a good distance between him and Geralt and Ciri. 

His back was to a tree, and the mare lay down in front of him at Jaskier’s strange and fluttering hand instructions. His hands were still wrapped tightly in bandages, only the tips of three fingers on each hand poking out. 

Geralt had a bad feeling about that. 

Jaskier didn’t come sit by the fire they started it. He only ate part of a squirrel because Geralt insistently pushed it into his bandaged hand. 

Ciri fell asleep soon after dinner, and Jaskier curled up under his blanket, wedged between the horse and the tree, but Geralt knew he wasn’t asleep. 

His eyes were closed, yes, but his breathing was too regulated. His heartbeat too quick. The man was clearly unsettled. 

Geralt wished to know what had happened to him. 

Geralt wished he knew how to help him. 

When Jaskier finally did fall asleep, or possibly passed out from exhaustion, Geralt allowed himself to close his eyes. 

He hated himself, for abandoning the man on top of the mountain. If Geralt had been there… he would have been able to protect his friend. 

None of this would have happened to Jaskier, if Geralt had been by his side. 

— 

Ciri woke up to find Jaskier petting down both horses. She lay on her mat, buried in almost all of the blankets because Geralt refused to take any if she looked cold, staring up at him. 

He looked almost content, brushing them down. He would rest his head on their shoulders, or smile when they bumped into his chest. He held the brush strangely, in an awkward grip that looked like he might drop the thing any minute. It looked a bit painful, actually… but he was getting the job done. 

Eventually Geralt began to stir beside her, so Ciri rose to her feet. 

“Morning, Jaskier,” she said. She thought she’d spoken quietly, but he jumped at the sound, spinning around to put his mare at his back as his eyes rolled around in fear. “Sorry! It’s just me!” 

Jaskier focused on her, and let out a long breath. She bit her lip, unsure what to do. 

“It’s alright,” Geralt’s rumbling voice said behind her. 

“Yes,” Ciri nodded, “everything is fine.” 

Jaskier was anxiously clutching at the brush, but Ciri and Geralt didn’t let him stew in it. Ciri pulled out their dried pork, what they often had for breakfast, to ration it out between the three of them as Geralt started to pack up their things. 

Jaskier dropped it as soon as she handed it to him.

“Whoops!” Ciri said, bending it pick it up before he could, “here you go, no harm done.” 

His lips twitched in an almost smile as he accepted the jerky. 

They eat together in silence, Jaskier walked away to lean against his tree again. 

Ciri wondered what happened to him. This was not the bard that she had been imagining. For one thing, bards talked. And sang. Jaskier was silent, all the time. Ciri wished she could hear the songs she had heard Geralt talking about. Songs about wolves and Witcher’s. They sounded rather exciting. 

For now, she stepped closer to the man on steady feet, and handed Jaskier another piece of dried meat. When he did nothing but nod to her in thanks, Ciri sat down beside him. He didn’t startle, or spook away. They ate beside each other in peace. 

For now, it was okay to be silent. 

— 

Days passed. Geralt didn’t have a clear course, and now that he had found his bard, he didn’t care about entering villages, or towns, either. Geralt just knew they had to keep moving, to keep Ciri safe; but also to rest often, so Jaskier could heal. 

It was a precarious balance, but he thought they were doing okay. Especially since Jaskier had his own horse. They could make a good distance in one day, without tiring the man out too much. 

Geralt had hoped that with some time together, Jaskier would settle, but… Jaskier was still nervous. He was scared of every unknown sound, and his eyes were still wild with fear if something startled him. 

But he was starting to calm down, now, more quickly than before whenever Geralt or Ciri were by his side. Geralt was mindful of where they stood, always close by. Always close enough to pay a hand on his shoulder, if he started to panic. Always close enough to step between Jaskier and the sound, if something startled him. They rode beside each other, and Geralt kept a careful eye on the man at all times. 

After only a few days together, Jaskier let Ciri rest her head on his shoulder, when they took breaks on the side of the road. 

Her smug smile the first time she had done it, and Jaskier had made no move to push her away, had been enough for Geralt to roll his eyes. He was glad though. They both deserved the extra comfort. 

—

It was another two weeks before Jaskier chose to sleep close to them, around the fire. 

Geralt and Ciri exchanged a glance, but neither of them said anything as Jaskier got himself and the mare set up. His back was to the horse, and his front to the flames, but Geralt didn’t miss the fact that he was within reach of the Witcher as well. 

Something warmed inside him, knowing this meant Jaskier felt safe with him. Jaskier knew Geralt would never let anyone hurt him. 

Geralt didn’t know if he should be as pleased as he was, that he was now considered as good as a tree, but he took what he could get. 

— 

Geralt realized his mistake as soon as they entered the town. 

He was so used to Jaskier, the old Jaskier, that he hadn’t thought it would be an issue. Jaskier loved people, before. He loved large towns, and crowded taverns. And he had never been known to keep quiet, if he didn’t want to do anything. 

But this wasn’t the old Jaskier. 

Of course Jaskier followed behind them without a noise of protest. He couldn’t speak. And Geralt was an idiot, who hadn’t thought of the fact that Jaskier flinched when travelers passed them on the road - of course he would be just as afraid of people here as well. 

But all Geralt had been thinking about was supplies. The nights were getting colder. Jaskier only had one flimsy blanket, and no change of clothes. Ciri still didn’t have proper shoes. 

He was looking for a job, and a few stands perhaps to purchase goods, and then they would go. 

But Jaskier started to let out breathy, panicked, sounds whenever anyone stepped too close to him, which was... often. The streets were narrow, and the town wasn’t exactly small. 

Geralt stopped a few streets in, rethinking this plan, as he watched Jaskier clutch to his mare’s reigns like a lifeline. 

“Um, Geralt,” Ciri whispered beside him, “perhaps we should leave-“ 

“Jaskier?” Someone called, all three of them turned to find a man approaching them. “Is that you? Melitele, I thought you’d died or something it’s been _years_ since-“ 

The man was reaching out - Jaskier’s eyes were wide, his heart beating like mad. Geralt stepped forward to intercept, but it was too late. 

Jaskier was pulling away, throwing himself on top of his mare in a blind panic, and the horse was off a second later.

“Fuck,” Geralt hissed. He got onto Roach, pulling Ciri up with him, but it was too late. They’d lost the bard. 

Geralt road Roach to the edge of the forest, where the mare had obviously entered. He sighed. 

“Do you think he went back to our camp from last night?” Ciri asked. 

Geralt shook his head, he didn’t know. He steered Roach into the trees, and followed the trail the running mare had left behind. 

It still took an hour to find him. Curled up between the horse and a tree, clutching his hair with his bandaged hands, rocking. He didn’t respond to either of them. 

It takes the whole night before he came back to them. He didn’t seem surprised to find himself pressed up between the horse and a tree, but he did look up in surprise to find Geralt and Ciri squeezed into the small space with him. 

He didn’t move away though. And neither did they.

If anything, he burrowed between them further, resting his head against Geralt's chest. 

Geralt wrapped an arm around the man’s shoulder. 

— 

Geralt was reluctant, but he couldn’t think of another way around it. Jaskier couldn’t enter the town, but Ciri needed shoes, and Jaskier needed a cloak. 

He just didn’t like the thought of leaving them here alone. 

“We’ll be fine, Geralt,” Ciri said, patting the wall of the cave they had found. “We can hide in here, if we hear anything, and we have the horses if we have to run. I doubt we will have to do either though, and we will be right here, looking exactly the same, when you come back.” 

Geralt grunted. He still didn’t like this plan. 

“Geralt, I’ve survived on my own, and so has Jaskier, we can last a few hours without you.” Ciri crossed her arms, and Geralt sighed. 

She had been dirty and half starved when he’d found her, and Jaskier had been held hostage by an innkeeper, he would hardly call that surviving. 

Ciri was raising her brows at him though, so he turned to Jaskier instead. 

Jaskier just nodded at him. 

“Fine.” Geralt groaned, “but if anything-” 

“We’ll get on the horses and run, and you’ll find us. Got it.” 

Geralt grumbled, picking up his pack and finally heading towards town. 

He hoped they would be safe. He didn’t know what he would do if they weren’t. 

\-- 

“Is it hard to do things like that, with your hands covered in bandages?” Ciri asked, watching as Jaskier awkwardly brushed the horses. He paused at her question though, and looked down at his hands instead. “It’s just- you look like you’re having a hard time of it.” 

Jaskier glanced away, and then started fiddling with the brush. Ciri felt a twang of guilt in her chest. 

“Sorry, Jaskier, I didn’t mean to- I’m just wondering if you’re alright? Surely whatever injury you had would be… gone by now? Or do we need to find you a healer? Because I’m sure Geralt would find you a healer if-” 

Jaskier shook his head, putting the brush down to come join her in her spot at the edge of the cave. She had a fire going, just outside of it, and the wall was actually nice and smooth to lean on. 

This would be a nice place to stay for a few days, if she could convince Gearlt to do it. 

Jaskier held on his hand to her, his fingers flexing. It looked like it always did, covered in large beige bandages, only the longest finger poking from the top. 

He motioned it to her again, before she clued in. 

“Oh, do you want me to..?” Jaskier nodded. She took a breath and set to work. 

There were several layers to the bandages, and some of them had spots of blood. Ciri frowned in concern when the layers fell away and things felt… odd, about Jaskier’s hand. Something wasn’t right. 

It wasn’t until she pulled away the last layer that she gasped, “oh, Jaskier.” She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at his hand. 

His mutilated hand. 

It was his right, his dominant hand, and his pointer and middle finger were missing. The pointer cut clean off, the middle raggedly torn off right below the knuckle, so there was still a bud there, but useless. 

No wonder he couldn’t hold things properly. And she had thought- she had asked if it was the _bandages-_

“Jaskier, I’m so sorry,” Ciri turned to him, tears in her eyes, “I had no idea-” 

He bumped her with his shoulder. It was alright, he was saying. But it wasn’t. 

He gently pulled his hand away, and undid the bandage of the left hand as well. The middle and ring finger were missing from the left. 

Ciri felt sick. 

Jaskier was frowning down at his hands, and then he picked up the bandages and offered them to her, with a pointed look between the bandages and her. 

“You want me to tie those back on?” she asked. 

He smiled at her sadly, before making a face at his hands. 

Ciri frowned, “you don’t want people to see them? Because you think they look bad?” 

Jaskier nodded. 

“But- do you want them back on?” 

Jaskier hesitated, and Ciri took that as her answer. “Then I won’t do it. Geralt and I don’t mind what your hands look like, if it’s easier for you to move around without a hundred layers of bandages on.” 

Jaskier looked between her and his hands, his eyes uncertain. 

Ciri nodded, “we can find you gloves, maybe. If that makes you feel better.” 

Jaskier let out a breath, and leaned his head against her shoulder. Ciri felt her heart warm. 

She leaned her head on top of his, and closed her eyes. 

\--

The hunt was an easy one, Geralt had the monsters head on the innkeepers table by midday, walking out with his money not long after. 

It was the shopping that had taken longer. Ciri needed proper boots, but he didn’t know what style she would like. None of the cloaks suited Jaskier, either. He chose what he could picture them wearing, hoping they would like them, before bundling them up with the thickest blankets he could find and heading back. 

It was long since dark by the time Geralt made it back to their camp. There was a fire burning though, which was a good sign, and when Geralt stepped into the clearing his shoulders finally relaxed in relief. 

Ciri was asleep beside the fire, bundled up at the mouth of the cave. A pile of bones, and a few extra pieces of meat he assumed was left for him, sat beside the fire. Good, that meant the snare traps had worked. 

Jaskier was on the other side of the fire, standing guard, his eyes on Geralt as he absently patted Roach. 

Geralt dropped his bags, pulled out one of the heavier blankets, and made his way to the bedrolls already laid out beside the girl. He motioned Jaskier over as well. The man hesitated before he came to settle beside Geralt. 

It only took Geralt a moment to figure out why. 

With his bandages gone, Jaskier’s hands looked at gruesome as Geralt thought they would be. He had hoped he was wrong, but… 

He took one of Jaskier’s hands gently in his own, and ran a hand over his fingers softly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jaskier cocked his head at him. 

“I should never have- I’m sorry I wasn’t there, to save you from this. I’m sorry I-” 

Jaskier poked his forehead, hard. 

Geralt huffed at him. Jasier huffed back. 

Jaskier looked down at his hands and raised his eyebrows. Geralt grunted. 

“It’s not so surprising,” Geralt said, squeezing his hand gently, “those bandages were hiding the scars more than anything else.” 

Jaskier nodded, but his eyes shifted over Geralt’s shoulder. 

He sighed, “Ciri’s been through a lot. I think this will be good, to be able to see someone survive hardship.” 

Jaskier looked at him doubtfully, but Geralt just shrugged. Ciri would be fine, she was probably mostly sad for Jaskier. They were both mostly worried for Jaskier… though he wasn’t going to tell Jaskier that, the idiot would just feel guilty over it. 

Jaskier’s eyes drift closed soon after that, and Geralt’s follow after. 

It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he realized they were still holding hands. 

— 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 for you, my lovely readers! :) 
> 
> Warnings: this chapter talks about Jaskier's torture/what happened to him

Days pass, and soon months have gone by. The trio survived through the winter by huddling together under large blankets, finding caves and tree logs to block the wind and snow. The horses squished together under makeshift lean to’s Geralt would make with fallen logs. 

On the worst nights they found inns, or barns, for shelter. But Jaskier was still wary of people, and Geralt was still wary of anyone seeing Jaskier or Ciri, so they only did that twice, when the snow was so thick it blinded them, and the wind was so sharp it cut into their skin. 

But now, the winter's snow had melted. The frozen ground had thawed, and they were sleeping on grass for the first time in months. 

Now, Ciri was excitedly running towards a stream, despite Geralt’s warnings that the water would still be freezing, and Jaskier was doing his strange laugh - one that sounded mostly like a pattern of puffed out air. 

It had been months, and Jaskier still couldn’t make a sound. His laugh was air. His frowns and smiles and flinches were all facial expression and body language, no sound. No sound ever came out, even when… even when he opened his mouth in a silent scream. 

Those were the worst nights. When Jaskier trembled, and screamed in his sleep, filling the alcove they were in with nothing but small noises of rustling clothes, and with all of Geralt’s worry. 

The smell of his sweat always woke him up first, and then his trembling. Geralt always pulled him to his chest, soothed a hand through his hair and down his back. 

On good nights, Jaskier barely even wake up. He would slip into a deeper sleep, nuzzled against Geralt’s skin. 

On bad nights.. on bad nights, Jaskier bundled up and walked away, either pacing the length of the cave, or went over and gripped the horses, his eyes terrified, and his body tight and guarded. 

Geralt preferred the nights where he could do something to help him. 

But for now, Jaskier was laughing. Ciri was shrieking, because the stream was as cold as Geralt had warned her it would be. The three of them were enjoying the warming sun, and Geralt could feel his shoulders loosen, and his chest warm. 

They were okay. 

— 

They needed supplies again. Roach needed a new pair of horseshoes, and Jaskier’s mare needed a new saddle blanket. 

As the weather warmed, Geralt had hoped to avoid this but… he would have to go into a town. They couldn’t hunt or make a horseshoe on their own. No matter how much Geralt wished he could. 

They had done this a few times now, and Geralt was much calmer than he used to be, leaving Jaskier and Ciri on their own. 

Ciri didn’t seem nervous at all, and Geralt walked away. Jaskier was distracted by the horses. 

Geralt hoped they would be okay. 

—

Geralt worked quickly. He gathered the horse supplies relatively fast. He found a new pair of shoes for Ciri, who had grown out of her old ones  _ already _ , and was just picking up another jacket for Jaskier when a woman approached him. 

He ignored her at first, like he ignored everyone who approached him, but she was persistent. She followed him from one stall to the next, and he rounded on her when she reached out a hand. 

She didn’t look startled to have her wrist suddenly gripped in his hand. That just made his frown deepen more. 

“I’m not here to harm you. I’m looking for Jaskier.” The woman said, holding up her other hand. 

That was the last thing Geralt expected her to say. He narrowed his eyes, shoving her away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

She lifted a brow at him, an expression he was familiar with, but not from this face. “The violet jacket is for you, then?”

Geralt bared his teeth at her. “Yes.” 

The woman sighed, “Yennefer is looking for him, I just need to know-“ 

Geralt froze, “Yennefer?”

“Yes. She left him safely as a stablehand, and now we can’t find him. The owner said he ran off with a white haired brute, who else could that be? You are very difficult to track down, you know-“ 

Geralt did know that, that was the point. He didn’t care what Yennefer wanted, he wasn’t putting Jaskier at risk for her insane schemes. She had left him at that stable. Alone. Injured. If he had his way, Yennefer would never see Jaskier again, after she did that. 

Geralt grit his teeth as he stalked away from the woman. He ignored her as she tried to chase after him. 

Predictably, he lost her as soon as he entered the forest. Sorceresses never liked to get their skirts dirty if they could avoid it. 

Just as predictably, Yennefer showed up not long after. 

Geralt only stopped to glare at the portal when it opened beside him, he stalked away again as soon as Yennefer stepped out of it. 

“Really, Geralt? Must you always be so rude?” 

Geralt didn’t stop walking, “leave, Yen. I’m not taking you to Jaskier.” 

“That’s fine, I’m sure I can find him on my own from here.” 

Geralt turned, snarling at her, “he’s hurt, and scared. You abandoned him in a barn, Yennefer, and last I checked he was afraid of you. Why would I let you near near him?”

Yennefer rolled her eyes, “Jaskier and I have an understanding now. Who do you think saved him, Geralt? Took him down from the chains, mended his wounds, changed him out of his blood stained clothes? It certainly wasn’t you.” 

Geralt winced, he knew that. He knew that Jaskier had been… that someone had tortured him. 

But to have Yennefer throw it in his face- 

“Geralt,” Yen said, her voice soft, “I’m not going to hurt him. I’m here to  _ help _ him.” 

Geralt scowled at the ground, but eventually he gripped his bag tight, and turned back to camp. This time he didn’t say a word as Yennefer started to follow after him. 

—

Ciri ran to Geralt as soon as he entered the clearing, and then she froze as soon as she was beside him. 

“Geralt,” she whispered urgently, “there’s someone-“ 

“This is Yennefer,” Geralt said, running a hand over her head, “you don’t have to worry about her.” 

Yennefer hummed behind him as she stepped into the clearing, “hello, Princess Cirilla. I wasn’t expecting such a bond between you two.” 

Ciri stepped closer to him, and Geralt sent Yennefer a glare. He didn’t need Yen getting Ciri nervous, not after all the work he had done reassuring her she was safe with him. Yennefer ignored him completely, and in fact stepped around the pair to enter the clearing fully. 

“Jask,” Yennefer murmured softly, softer than anything Geralt had heard from her before, and turned in surprise as the sorceress stepped up to the bard, and wrapped him in her arms. 

He was even more surprised when Jaskier hugged her tightly back. 

“She’s a friend of Jaskier?” Ciri asked him. 

“Hm.” 

— 

Yennefer tied a cloth around Jaskier’s throat, one that smelled of herbs and magic. Jaskier touched it nervously once it was in place, but Yennefer smiled gently and pulled his hand away, squeezing it in hers. 

“It should work this time,”she said gently, “it will suck the injury out, and your voice will return.”

Jaskier nodded, though hesitantly. He stood up a moment later, walking over to pet the horses. 

Yennefer sighed as she watched him go. 

“How’s he doing?” 

”Better,” Geralt said, “though I don’t expect him to ever be what he was.” 

Yennefer hummed. “No, not after what he went through.” 

Geralt’s hand flexed. He wanted to know, but he didn’t know if… if he should ask her or wait until - 

“It was the Reavers, from the mountain, originally. Jaskier and I… we ran into each other at the camp. He was in quite a foul mood, and I could relate.” She glanced at him, but Geralt didn’t say anything. She continued, “the two of us… we left together. Spent time together near Oxenfurt, drinking, mostly, and when we parted ways… I had no idea we had been followed. It was the two Reavers left, after our fight to protect the egg. They were mad at us. For taking their prize, for killing their comrades, so they took it out on him.” 

Yennefer’s words had taken his choice away from him. Geralt didn’t know if he should feel guilty or relieved, that it wasn’t Jaskier telling him this. That it wasn’t Jaskier’s words branding into his heart that this was  _ Geralt’s _ fault. Geralt had pushed him away on that mountain, and Jaskier had… afterwards Jaskier had been taken. Because of something Geralt had done. 

Geralt should have looked for him harder. 

“They sold him to Nilfgaard soldiers, when they heard about the reward,” she continued. “Nilfgaard was searching for you, trying to find the princess. He didn’t tell them anything. Even though it was them that did the permanent damage.” She splayed her own fingers, and then pulled them into a fist. 

Geralt felt the ground disappear from beneath his feet. 

So it was  _ entirely _ his fault. He had assumed, but to have it… to have it confirmed, that Geralt was the reason Jaskier could never be a bard again... 

Geralt turned away. He didn’t know how Jaskier could even look at him, after everything they had done in his name. 

“Fuck.” 

“They slit his throat, when it became clear he wouldn’t talk. Probably expecting him to die, but definitely knowing it would cut into his vocal cords. The last thing he remembers is ‘if you will not talk to us, then you will not talk to anyone...’” Yennefer paused, the silence between them ached. “I only know all of this because as we healed him, he let me in. I think he needed someone to know he didn’t break… I could give him that, at least.”

“ _ Fuck _ .” Geralt said again, running a hand over his face. 

“Yes.” Yennefer turned to him then, her brow furrowing at the look on his face. “They were looking for you, Geralt, but it wasn't your fault. I still don’t know how Nilfgaard knew to target him.” 

“I should have been there.” 

“If you had been, you probably would both be dead. And I would not have found him, because I would have avoided the place like the plague if I knew you were in it. I went to a party, and felt his pain from the ballroom. I got him out. Mended him back together, as best I could. Set him up somewhere that Nilfgaard would never think to look at him… but  _ you _ are the one that is healing him, Geralt. He was not nearly this calm, last time I saw him. His eyes aren’t wild anymore. He looks like he is actually sleeping. That’s because of  _ you _ .” 

Geralt glared at the ground. That didn’t make him feel better. 

He turned to watch the man, who was resting his head on Roach’s neck. Roach let him. Roach loved him, almost as much as Geralt did. 

“He’s special, isn’t he?” Yennefer said. 

“He’s Jaskier.” 

— 

Yennefer stayed a few more days. She had been right, her and Jaskier did have a bond now. 

The two of them would go for walks through the trees, or were found sitting quietly together beside the nearby pond. Yennefer was insisting that they stay in the same place until the magic working on Jaskier’s throat did its job. Geralt didn’t like it, but he agreed. 

He wanted Jaskier’s voice back more than anyone. 

It took three days before it worked. Geralt woke to find Jaskier’s throat bandage covered in bright red blotches, blooming over the front. Fear gripped him at first, and he grabbed at the man, afraid that somehow, months after the fact, he had succumbed to his injuries. 

But Jaskier’s eyes shot open when Geralt shook him, bracing his hands against Geralt’s chest. 

Geralt sagged in relief. “Fuck.” 

Jaskier looked at him in confusion, and then blinked, a shaky hand coming up to touch his throat. 

His fingers came away red. 

“Fuck,” Geralt hissed again, “Yennefer!” 

“What?” Yennefer propped her head out of her tent, her eyes widening at the sight of Jaskier’s bloody throat. “Oh, wonderful!” 

“Wonder- he’s hurt!” 

“No, no,” Yennefer waved Geralt out of the way, her nimble fingers working the bandage off of Jaskier’s neck. As she pulled the cloth away, the skin of his neck looked smooth, undamaged. It didn’t make any sense. 

“There we are,” Yennefer smiled, looking down at the bandage, “it pulled the inner injury out, his vocal cords should be healed now.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened, but when he opened his mouth Yennefer held up a hand. “Give it a day, before you try anything. It will still be a few weeks before you can talk normally, and at  _ least _ a month before you try singing. Got it?” 

Jaskier nodded, but his eyes were sparkling. He pulled her into a hug without warning, and Yennefer sighed dramatically in his arms. “Yes, you’re very welcome.” 

Geralt shook his head at the pair. 

She left without much fanfare soon after that, saying she would be back for a check up soon. Geralt wasn’t fooled though, she just wanted an excuse to visit again. 

He didn’t say anything though. He knew none of them would mind the company. 

Geralt packed up their stuff and left, once Yennefer was gone. It was time to move on. 

— 

Geralt was away when they found them. He had wandered farther than he usually did, tracking a young doe that would last them days. He had foolishly felt safe, leaving them here, near the southern end of the continent. He thought they were too far away to need to constantly be on guard. He thought the two of them could handle themselves on their own, for an extra hour or so. 

It was a rookie mistake

He sensed them first. The presence of extra bodies, surrounding the clearing he had left Ciri and Jaskier in. The sense that something was horribly wrong. 

He could hear them next. 

He broke into a run, dropping the deer without care. 

The sound of a body hitting a tree. The sneer in a man’s voice as they said, “you won’t get away this time. We’re going to keep you a dungeon so deep and dark, you won’t even be able to see your fucked up hands. You think your Witcher cares about you at all? He’s left you to us again-“ 

Geralt cut through the first three without any of them noticing he was there. Ciri bit into the hand of the fourth, shoving him back into Geralt’s blade. 

Now there were only two left, but one was holding Jaskier against his chest, a knife to the bards throat. 

“Let him go!” Ciri shouted. Geralt caught her before she could launch herself at them. His child was fierce, but this situation called for delicacy. Measured movements. Otherwise, Jaskier’s throat could be injured again. 

And Geralt wasn’t letting them take the bard’s voice. Not after he just got it back. 

“Let him go.” 

The soldier grinned at him, “come with us with the girl, and I’ll think of letting him go.” 

“No.” 

“You think this is a negotiation? You think I won’t hesitate to-“ 

Geralt’s throw was swift and true, his blade sticking clean through the man’s skull as he fell to the ground. 

The other soldier only made it a few steps before Geralt was on him. Their clearing was now full of the dead, blood soaking into the ground, but Geralt didn’t care. He gathered Jaskier into his arms, and pulled Ciri into his side. The three of them clung to each other, catching their breath. 

“Thank you,” a rough voice whispered. It took Geralt a second, but then he pulled back, his eyes on Jaskier. 

“Jaskier…?” 

“G-Geralt,” the voice whispered again. 

Geralt pulled him close again, burying his face in Jaskier’s hair. 

“Jaskier.” 

— 

It took months before Jaskier felt comfortable to speak freely. 

It started with whispers, mostly to Geralt in the middle of the night. Then to tentative, carefully worded, sentences, while the three of them sat around the fire. 

Ciri was thrilled, if the giant smile she gave the bard was anything to go by. She would ask the man question after question, until Jaskier’s voice would get rough once more, and Geralt would have to remind her to stop. Jaskier needed his rest. And he could tell, by the way Jaskier winced through it, that his throat still hurt him at times… but the bard would never say anything. 

But even now, months after he regained his voice, Jaskier looked uncertain. It was like he didn’t want to say anything they might not like. Like he didn’t want his voice taken away again. 

So when Jaskier shot Geralt hesitant looks, Geralt just looked on, every time. Jaskier could speak how he liked. He always had. 

\--

More months passed. The trio drew closer to the southern coast of the continent. Jasier’s uncertainty faded more and more with each day. His smiles became more frequent. His laugh, a timid thing at first, got louder. And Ciri’s laughter was getting louder too. She was acting like a child again, with Jaskier here to tease her. Something that made Geralt’s own lips twitch up into a grin. 

They were good together. Geralt knew they would be. 

He picked up the instrument on a whim. He was in town, collecting extra cooking equipment at Ciri and Jaskier’s insistence, when he saw it in a stall. He had the coin for it, so he just… took it. 

He didn’t think about Jaskier’s reaction until he tried to hand it to the man. His chest tightened with nerves, when Jaskier didn’t say anything at first. Which was ridiculous. It didn’t matter if Jaskier liked it or not. Geralt had just thought.. He thought the bard might enjoy playing again. 

Even if it wasn’t a lute. 

“A pan flute?” Jaskier asked, holding the wood pipes up to look at them better. 

“I know it isn’t a lute, but I thought you might like to make music again,” Geralt said, looking away. “I can- we don’t have to keep it. It’s stupid, never mind.” 

“It’s lovely,” Jaskier said, beaming at him when Geralt finally turned his way. “This is very thoughtful, Geralt, thank you.” He pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek before turning back to the flute. 

Geralt ducked his head to smile. 

— 

The pan flute was played with only the mouth, moving the instrument with hands that didn’t need to do anything else but hold. Jaskier picked it up quickly, and Geralt shouldn’t be surprised that he was soon playing some of his old songs in no time. 

“It’s a shame I can't sing and play at the same time,” he said sadly at one point, “but I can’t very well go play in taverns anymore anyway, what with being in hiding now. And there’s...the people-” Jaskier cleared his throat. 

Geralt squeezed his shoulder. That was the closest they ever got to admitting that Jaskier was different now. He couldn't stand the company of people anymore. Might never be again.

“I could learn to play,” Ciri said. 

Jaskier stared at her. “Really?” He asked, a smile slowly spreading across his face. 

“Yes, I could play the lute, and you could sing. Or play your flute! Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful?” 

“Ciri, nothing would make me happier!” 

The two of them started talking very quickly after that, making plans to find a lute, or possibly make one themselves. 

Geralt tuned them out, after a while, but he couldn’t help agreeing with Ciri. He did think it would be wonderful. 

— 

Geralt, by some sort of miracle, found a lute only a few weeks into their search for one. 

The two of them made so much noise, playing two instruments, and singing at the top of their lungs in the middle of the forest, it was a wonder that no one found them. 

Geralt wasn't too worried though. Jaskier was better, now. Happier than he’d been before all this happened, even. 

And Ciri was older. With her training, she could fight a few soldiers off herself. 

They didn’t have fear hanging over them anymore. They were healed, and whole, and they had each other. 

They stayed by the south, stayed by the coast. Jaskier glowed in the sun, and Ciri laughed in the waves. 

Geralt smiled at the two of them, at peace. 

— 

Jaskier kissed him on an entirely unordinary day. They were staying in nothing more than a shack that had been abandoned, and had been for sometime now. They had a view of the beach, and they were hidden amongst the trees. Ciri had tied branches and blankets around a corner of the room for some extra privacy. 

They felt at home here. Something Geralt had never felt before. 

Jaskier pulled Geralt outside, after Ciri had gone off into her corner. He laid down a blanket, and kissed Geralt when he sat down next to him. 

Geralt didn’t hesitate to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, to pull him close, to rock their bodies together. 

Jaskier made little moans of pleasure. Geralt ate them all up. 

— 

Geralt stopped keeping track of the time. It was over two years since he had found Ciri, he knew that. It may have been three, by now. 

Ciri was older, he knew that much. She had the confidence of a woman now, when they spared each other for practice. She held her head high, when she spoke of her future plans. Geralt had no doubt that she would join the word and change it for the better. As soon as she was ready. 

And Jaskier… Jaskier was much more like his old self than Geralt had ever hoped he would be. He sang songs to the horses, the sea birds, the cat that they had somehow adopted. He sang songs to Ciri as the two of them did laundry, and to Geralt as they lay in bed at night. 

He laughed, and joked, as his skin grew tan. As his body rebuilt itself, and his hands learned how to work with less. They never found gloves for him, but they didn’t need to. They didn’t notice anymore what made Jaskier different from them. 

And Geralt… he lay in the sand, watched Jaskier teach Ciri from some old booked Yennefer had brought by, and he smiled. 

Geralt was at home, at last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a kudos or comment to let me know what you think :) 
> 
> If you like my fics,[come say hi on tumblr!](http://happyjuicyfruit.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment or kudos to let me know what you think :) 
> 
> Chapter 2 is already drafted, so it will be up soon.


End file.
